


Kabethari

by MidnightHalla (MidnightVagabond)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightVagabond/pseuds/MidnightHalla
Summary: In which Herald Adaar learns that Haven was not necessarily built for Qunari.





	Kabethari

**Author's Note:**

> Just a nice short little headcanon to distract me from the emotional hell that was Trespasser. Meet Fenrir Adaar, my Qunari Inquisitor! He's a lovable idiot.
> 
> Also my first Dragon Age fic -- hopefully more to come!

Despite having been in Haven for weeks, Adaar had never truly taken the time to explore the quaint mountain village.

This realization came at a terrible cost.

"No, I will _not_ brew you a drink, get out of my apothecary!" the healer had roared, chasing Adaar out of his shop with a broom two nights ago. In all fairness, this was an appropriate response. The Herald had stumbled into the apothecary rather than the tavern, already tipsy, and the rest was history. Varric mocked him relentlessly for that blunder. And, well... Adaar supposed he did have a point; it was about time that he finally learned what was where. Seeing as there was still a massive tear in the heavens, Haven was his home for now.

Which was how he found himself ducking into the Chantry well in advance of the time he would be due for the war council. The Qunari shook snow from his leathers, brushing a few stray flakes from his horns. There was no way he'd wander Haven in the middle of a blizzard, but indoor exploration was certainly not out of the question. Adaar nodded a respectful greeting to the many Chantry sisters as he poked around, taking in his surrounding for perhaps the first time. Normally, there was never a good moment to do something like this; on the off chance that Adaar wasn't busy in the Hinterlands with the ongoing crisis there, he tended to stay occupied with countless meetings and other Inquisition business. Spare time was a luxury they could not afford in light of the threats they faced. More than once, Cassandra had shooed him off from a late-night strategy talk, insisting that he get some rest before he fell asleep at the war table. She wore her mask of exasperation well, but it was sort of touching that she was concerned for his well-being. If memory served, she'd wanted to execute him not too long ago.

Haven's Chantry was smaller than he'd initially thought. Multiple shallow alcoves held only pile of crates and other haphazardly-stored supplies; it was clear that the Breach had had a devastating effect on this community. Prayer benches had been shoved aside or used as tables; one in particular held a bundle of lumber for repairs. Adaar fidgeted. He hated how powerless he felt to help these people; the mark might be able to heal the Breach but it would never be able to rebuild homes or reunite families. He wanted to be out there _helping_ , not getting ready to discuss how best to handle restless Orlesian nobles.

Resigned as he was to the fact that he was needed in Haven for several more days, however, Adaar sighed and stuck his head into the side chamber where Josephine was hard at work, composing a letter at her desk with furrowed brows. She looked up sharply when he eased the door closed behind him. "Oh! Greetings, Herald. Did you need something?" the ambassador asked, expression having shifted to a smile. He could see the exhaustion behind it, where it lived in the dark shadows under her eyes and the ever-so-slightly forced cheerfulness. Perhaps he could bring her some tea at the meeting -- and something for the others, too, while he was thinking of it. All of them could use something nice as a distraction, brief as it might be.

"No, nothing really. Just killing time before the council. It isn't for another hour, correct?"

"Yes, but I will see what I can do about starting it earlier, if you wish. Cullen and Leliana should be available. As for Cassandra... it would depend on whether she has taken a rest from mutilating that training dummy."

"That would be excellent -- wait, she's not really still out there, is she? It was storming badly when I came in. I'll be surprised if she isn't frozen by now."

Josephine gave him a pained look. "All the more reason for us to begin early. I will see to it that someone fetches her," she replied firmly, setting aside her letter and starting to rise from her chair.

"Thank you, Ambassador," Adaar said by way of farewell as Josephine hurried past him. A weight he didn't know he'd been carrying had lightened. He worried for all of them, and Cassandra in particular was prone to beating herself up at times. She had been deeply troubled by the Divine's death; Leliana too. He watched Josephine go, hoping in vain that Cassandra hadn't actually been out in the snow all that time.

That was when a new doorway caught his eye, and he blinked, making his way over to investigate. He still had some time before everyone arrived; better to do something than sit around waiting. To his surprise, a dark stairwell was revealed when he pushed open the door. He'd never known that the Chantry had a basement. For storage, perhaps?

Stooping so as not to bump his head as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Adaar blinked in the dim light. Not a basement, but a dungeon. The stone corridor was lined by what looked like jail cells, and he got the sense that he was treading somewhere he had no business being. Surely they didn't have prisoners? He made his way warily along the dark passage, curiosity pulling him onward. Water dripped slowly from one of the crossbeams, forming a puddle on the cobbled floor. Adaar peered into an alcove and blanched; the walls of the room were lined with skulls sitting atop ceramic jars. He shivered and moved quickly past that scene, drawing his leathers closed. His footsteps seemed too loud to his ears, echoing in the underground space.

Adaar nearly leaped out of his skin when a voice called out from behind him. Startled, he spun around and immediately felt his horns catch on something. A harsh rattling of chains briefly filled the dungeon, followed by a flash of pain when something very hot skittered down the back of his neck. The Qunari cursed, reaching for the sword that wasn't at his side, before coming to the realization that he was simply tangled in a hanging brazier. Of course.

"...Herald?" Leliana's voice drifted down the stairs again, uncertain this time. Adaar realized that he'd entirely missed whatever she had said before. Probably summoning him to the war table, if he had to make an educated guess. Everyone must be here and ready to start.

"I'll be there in a moment!" Adaar tried, hoping he sounded less rattled than he felt. He reached blindly upward, neck bent at an odd angle as he tried to feel his way loose. Distantly, Leliana's footsteps receded. At least he'd be spared the embarrassment of having the spymaster see him like this. But on the other hand... the more he examined where his horns were caught, the more he realized he was well and truly stuck on the accursed lighting fixture. He didn't have time for this; Josephine had gone out of her way to rearrange schedules for him.

He gave an experimental tug, and immediately flinched when the rest of the hot coals spilled out of the brazier, thankfully not burning him this time. Less thankfully, he was still thoroughly trapped. Adaar growled under his breath, losing patience, and tried a sharper jerk of his head. With a cacophony of clanking metal, the entire brazier came unfastened from the low ceiling. It fell but did not disentangle from his horns, coming to rest heavily on his back as it dangled from him like some ridiculous ornament.

Well. Not the results he'd wanted, but they were results nonetheless.

A heavy silence fell when Adaar arrived at the war table. Josephine was respectfully trying to ignore the situation, though all three of the others stared blankly for several moments. Adaar greeted them with a strained smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said in a tone that suggested there was not, in fact, a brazier lightly scorching his leathers.

This seemed to shake the others out of their trance. Cassandra let out a disgusted noise, her face red from the cold. Josephine bit her lip, and Cullen hesitantly opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on:

"Herald... you have, uh..."

At which point Leliana snapped. "Did you _tear that from the ceiling_? The Inquisition is lucky enough to be allowed to stay here as it is, without people half-destroying the Chantry!" She took a breath, clearly preparing to give him a piece of her mind, and Adaar winced but seized the opportunity to perhaps spare himself from imminent destruction.

"Sorry, ma'am. It was an accident. Won't happen again. Ma'am."

At this, Leliana only sighed and put her head in her hands. Adaar tried once more to untangle himself from the mess of chain and still-hot metal. He was getting the feeling that he'd only made it worse. Eventually, Cassandra took pity on him, moving around the table to attempt to free him from his new headpiece.

"Maker, why are you so tall?" the warrior complained, spurring Adaar to hunch over and allow her easier access to his horns. He could hear Josephine's half-stifled giggles in the background, and not long after, Cullen's chortling laugh joined hers. Cassandra was smiling too, perhaps for the first time in days, when she finally pulled the brazier loose and set it aside.

Leliana glared at them. Her shoulders were shaking with amusement. "You're all awful."


End file.
